


When You Awake

by sarasaurusrex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Crazy Castiel (Supernatural), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarasaurusrex/pseuds/sarasaurusrex
Summary: Set before the finale of season 7, Dean suspects Castiel isn’t as crazy as he seems, but he finds it hard to hold a grudge when he sees Castiel suffering in his sleep.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 225
Collections: ProfoundBond Exchange: Quarantine & Chill





	When You Awake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FreezingAlyce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreezingAlyce/gifts).



> I wrote this for FreezingAlyce for the Profound Bond Gift Exchange! The theme was Quarantine & Chill. I hope you like it!!!
> 
> Beta-ed by the awesome [saltyravenclaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyravenclaw) !

It’s been a week since Sam and Dean narrowly escaped Dick Roman Industries with their lives and a stolen block of clay in a briefcase. It had been days since the demon tablet was recovered and Castiel woke from his penitent slumber. And still, Dean couldn’t accept the fact that Castiel might never truly be himself again.

His days were now full of games of ‘Sorry’, poorly braided sunflower crowns, and midnight calls about where to hide a dozen stolen monkeys. Everyone else had given Cas up as dysfunctional, unstable, and unable to account for himself, but not Dean. He still glared tight-lipped at Castiel as if he had just sank into the dark waters of Sioux Falls Lake. But it was also Dean who passed his hours by staying at Castiel’s side when they weren’t searching for ways to kill a Leviathan. It was Dean who stayed behind while Sam and Kevin tried to decipher the last few words of the tablet.  
And it was Dean who watched over Castiel while he slept, because he just couldn’t accept that the fate he had given everything to help Sam avoid had been passed on to his best friend.

It was one of those nights when Castiel fell asleep unceremoniously on Dean’s bed that he had the sudden realization he’d never seen an angel sleep. Dean didn’t need to be a prophet to figure out why; Castiel was damaged. The tablet may have woken him, but staying awake was a feat too taxing for Castiel’s broken mind. So Castiel slept. Dean didn’t mind, actually. Hell, he enjoyed the silence for a change. In sleep Castiel looked like himself again, not the blank, delirious puppy he’d become, baffling them all with a thousand and one facts about mulch.

Dean had never seen an angel dream, either, yet he knew at once Castiel was. While blithely unaware in his waking life, it seemed that in sleep his mind was much less at ease. Castiel tossed and turned endlessly in his sleep, and Dean knew why he was doing that, too. He had those kinds of dreams before. Perhaps it was sympathy that made Dean put his guns aside and try to wake him. It didn’t work, but Castiel seemed to relax at Dean’s touch and he’d fall back into a deep sleep all the same.  
It didn’t last, however. Castiel soon began to writhe again, and when Dean got tired of getting up every ten minutes he begrudgingly moved the covers aside and laid down beside Castiel. He stirred and mumbled something about bees, but Dean shushed him and he fell quiet again. The warmth of Dean’s side against Castiel’s back seemed to do the trick, and it wasn’t until a door slammed an hour later that Dean realized he, too, had fallen asleep, his head drooped on Castiel’s shoulder.

Sam was back with news of the ingredients. At last they could kill Dick Roman.

Days passed while they gathered the ingredients for the Bone of the Righteous Mortal, and Dean found himself spending nights sharing a bed with Castiel. He figured Castiel must have known he was doing it, but he never brought it up and Dean wasn’t complaining. It felt odd, being so angry at someone and yet so unable to listen to their whimpering pleas while they slept. As Dean lay there beside him night after night, his warm touch soothing Castiel as if it were angel grace, Dean had never felt so conflicted. All he knew was that the Castiel suffering in his sleep was the real Castiel, and Dean wouldn’t let _him_ suffer alone.

Hours had passed since Castiel became one with the bees, and thirty minutes since Sam and Dean were given the last ingredient to kill Dick Roman: Crowley’s blood. Ironic that Castiel had been the first ingredient, and he would soon complete the ritual by identifying which of the Romans was the real Dick. That was the theory, anyway. Although no one expected Castiel to do it, not even Dean. It was only while Castiel was asleep that they were united. The Castiel who was awake and spoke of cosmedics testing and horse fertilizer wasn’t the real Castiel.

They had only a short time left together. Dean resented Castiel for wasting it with his avoidant ramblings, even though he knew Castiel could fix himself no easier than Dean could. They would set out in the morning to kill Dick; with or without him. Dean wasn’t sure which he wanted, which would soothe his fractured soul. Either way, he went to check on Castiel during the night like he always did.

Castiel was dreaming as usual, although tonight it sounded worse than ever. His breathing was uneven and his back was moving up and down roughly. Dean went to the side of the bed and touched Castiel’s shoulder, but this time Castiel didn’t relax. This time Castiel jumped and turned to look at him.

Despite the surprise of finding Castiel awake, Dean’s face fell to its usual stony expression. Castiel however was far from looking usual. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were tearstained and red. He looked so human in that moment. Dean felt his stomach drop.

Castiel laid back down, turning to face the wall and spoke as steadily as he could. “Dean, I have nothing more to say. I’m not going with you,” he stated calmly, as if they were discussing it over checkers.

Dean felt like he was suffering from whiplash. He removed his hand. “I know,” he croaked, his voice sounding rougher than usual. “I was just checking on you.”

Castiel went silent at this, except for the occasional, stifled sniff.

It took Dean several uncomfortably silent moments to realize what he’d walked on. Castiel, the broken angel, was crying in his bed, isolating himself from Sam and Dean. Dean’s inner turmoil became too great and his hard expression softened. Listening to Castiel suffering while awake was infinitely worse than listening to it while he slept. Dean heard another stifled intake of breath, and he felt his resolve finally crack in two like the demon tablet hitting the floor of the asylum.

Dean sighed heavily. He pulled the covers back, making Castiel glance over at him. He watched in bleary-eyed confusion as Dean laid down beside him and stared resolutely at the wall opposite the bed.

Castiel didn’t know how to respond. It seemed not even the new, flighty Castiel knew what to say. So Castiel merely rolled back over and let Dean lay next to him in silence. The warmth of Dean’s side against his back was comforting, and Castiel’s quiet, breathy sobs soon subsided.

“Dean…” he rasped.

Dean didn’t respond.

“I can’t… I can’t go with you,” he repeated.

“I’m not asking you to,” Dean grumbled. “Just get some sleep.”

Dean could tell by Castiel’s silence that he was even more confused, but for some reason Dean couldn’t speak. His throat felt constricted. Minutes passed before Castiel spoke again.

“Dean..”

Castiel’s voice sounded choked again, and Dean looked at him despite himself. He watched Castiel’s shoulder rise and fall as he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean stared impassively at the back of Castiel’s rumpled white shirt. He knew he wasn’t talking about Dick Roman anymore. For a brief moment, Castiel’s sadness filled him with selfish relief. It was the first time Dean felt a flutter of hope that Castiel was back. He felt his anger and fear dissolve, but in their wake flooded in a tidal wave of guilt. Dean had done nothing but treat Castiel like crap since he woke up, when he knew perhaps more than anyone else that Castiel was still in there.

Dean tried to reply, but he couldn’t get the words out. So instead, he moved the covers aside and put his arm under Castiel. Castiel didn’t seem able to ask questions. He let Dean roll him over and pull him into an embrace.

“It’s okay,” Dean said gently.

A rush of relief weakened Castiel and he broke into renewed sobs. He lay there against Dean’s chest, letting his tears run dry while Dean shushed him gently.

When Castiel had calmed enough to speak, he couldn’t help but go on. “I was trying to save Heaven, to save you, I tried… so hard… but nothing I did…” he hiccuped, shoulders shuddering.

“Cas,” Dean looked at him seriously, and Castiel was relieved to see that he no longer looked impassive. His eyes gleamed like a deep forest in the dimly lit room. “I forgive you.”

It took a long time for those words to sink into Castiel’s conscience. They seemed to ease Dean’s pain as much as Castiel’s.

Several long minutes passed as they lay comforting each other in the dead of night, on the eve of what could be their final mission. Dean suddenly didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay in that bed with Castiel and never think of Leviathans or Dick again. He wanted to join Castiel in his isolation, quarantining himself from the world, or perhaps the world from himself. But he couldn’t. If there was anything in life that Dean was certain of, it was that he would never be able to stay behind, no matter who he had in bed with him.

Dean watched Castiel’s neck move as he breathed, his chest gently rising and falling beneath his shirt. He looked at Castiel’s hand resting in the folds of Dean’s shirt, and how their bodies leaned against each other where the blanket covered them. He could smell Castiel. He wondered why he never noticed what Castiel smelled like. It was such a human smell. Like sweat and earth, and something uniquely ‘Cas’.

Castiel’s eyes were closed. Dean wondered if he had fallen asleep. A recklessness came over him in the safety of the dark bedroom, a need to express himself, a need to tell Castiel everything before it was too late, so Dean tipped his head down and kissed Castiel’s forehead.

Castiel didn’t stir, but when Dean moved away Castiel looked up at him. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked Castiel in the eyes. They were closer than they’d ever been, and Dean saw something all too familiar in their clear, blue depths: something vulnerable and human. Dean didn’t realize he was doing it until it was too late. Castiel watched him, unmoving, as Dean leaned in against him and kissed his lips.

For a moment they didn’t move, they just breathed against each other’s lips, and then Castiel’s eyes closed. He closed his lips over Dean’s, and Dean’s lips seemed to move of their own accord. He kissed Castiel slowly, gently, and he was surprised when he felt Castiel move his hand off of Dean’s chest and cradle Dean’s face. It was like Castiel couldn’t figure out if Dean was really there. Dean pulled Castiel closer under the covers and kissed him back into the pillows. When Castiel didn’t resist, but rather pulled Dean’s face closer, Dean opened the kiss and leaned into him.

It was as if Dean was trying to communicate every unspoken word into that kiss, every shout he’d refrained from, and at the same time every word of comfort. Castiel, who so rarely understood, seemed to be taking it in was surprising comprehension. It made Dean feel vulnerable, but in a new way. A way that didn’t frighten him or make him want to run. A way that brought him only closer to Castiel under those covers and made him kiss Castiel even deeper.

Despite the warmth spreading through his body, Dean’s mind was icy cold. He was all too aware that Castiel had spent the last few months in an incoherent state, and he began to pull back. But when Castiel felt the kiss begin to fade, he wove his fingers between Dean’s. The gesture was so sincere that Dean felt his heart swell and he looked at Castiel hesitantly.

Their eyes met in the dimly lit room, and Dean found himself needing to explain.

“Cas…” he murmured, but no more words came to him. He suddenly felt helpless, unable to communicate. He realized, perhaps inappropriately that Sam would know what to say if it were him in bed with Castiel. Sam would be able to sort out his feelings and express them to Castiel. Sam would be able to treat Castiel right.

“I forgive you, too,” Castiel rasped.

Dean stared at him. In giving him the answer, Dean understood the question. His self-doubt and fear seemed to rise up, glowing like a soul released to heaven, and dissipated through the roof of the small bedroom. Dean didn’t need to say anything at all as he leaned back down and kissed Castiel.

It felt like an entire lifetime passed during that kiss, and yet Dean suddenly found himself moving again. Seconds later he was wedged between Castiel’s legs and kissing him deeply. His need was reciprocated as Castiel helped him remove his shirt. Castiel was warm and firm beneath him, with just the right amount of give, and Castiel kissed him encouragingly as they both stripped naked. Dean pulled Castiel’s bare chest against his own and revelled in the sensation. He’d seen Cas all but naked before. He’d pulled bullets and shrapnel out of Castiel’s body. Yet he’d never felt Castiel’s body like this: hot and pressing and moving against Dean’s. It felt like a dream.

Dean had never been so consumed with need before, and when he saw that need reflected in Castiel’s eyes Dean didn’t need to ask the question. Castiel shifted his legs to let Dean in, and soon Dean was sinking hot and raw into Castiel’s body.

Castiel gasped, but it was unlike any sound he’d made while dreaming. It wasn’t a gasp of pain or fear, it was a soft shock of pleasure. Dean wove their fingers together on the bed and Castiel squeezed his hand. Dean gave him a long, lingering kiss as they adjusted to the feel of each other, then Dean began slowly, passionately, making love to Castiel.

Castiel’s bedroom was once again full of the sounds of stifled pleas and heavy breaths, although this time Castiel wasn’t in pain. Dean panted along with him, their bodies moving as one. Dean couldn’t remember ever feeling so good. When Castiel’s head sank back into the pillows, no longer able to kiss Dean, Dean upped the pace and deepened his thrusts. Castiel rolled his hips instinctively and Dean groaned and buried his head in Castiel’s shoulder.

Their movements became hurried and desperate. Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand and murmured something Dean didn’t understand. Was it Enochian? Either way, Dean could tell Castiel was close. He could feel it in the way Castiel moved, in the way he tried and failed to grip Dean’s short hair. Dean moved his hand between them and stroked Castiel, and he knew it was all over

“Dean!”

Castiel came right there, his pleasure bursting forth in spurts. His eyes fell shut and his jaw dropped. Dean kissed him through his orgasm, and found his own not far behind. With Castiel undulating and gasping beneath him, he didn’t stand a chance. He pulled out just in time and moaned into Castiel’s shoulder as he pumped himself dry.

To his surprise, he felt Castiel’s hand fumbling over his own. Dean let Castiel wrap his hand around Dean’s throbbing cock, so close to complete, and the contact alone pushed him over the edge. Dean found himself rocking his hips into Castiel’s hand to finish. Once it had passed, it felt like he’d been hit by a tidal wave. He collapsed beside Castiel, who put his arm beneath Dean and pulled him close. Dean didn’t mind one bit. He lay against him while their breathing slowed and their bodies came down from that perfect high.

Minutes passed before either of them spoke. Long, blissful minutes that neither wanted to end. They were hot and sweaty, and Dean could smell Castiel stronger than ever. He didn’t think he’d ever inhaled anything so divine.

“Dean…”

Castiel was so close to him that he barely had to move to make eye contact. Dean was relieved to see that Castiel looked as exhausted, and satisfied, as he did.

“Yeah, Cas.”

“What that… okay?”

Dean smiled. The muscles in his face felt alien to him. “That was great, Cas.” He murmured, leaning forward and kissing Castiel’s forehead. This time, Castiel smiled back.

Their smiles faded quickly, weighed down by the impossible task facing them the following day. Dean didn’t think he could stand to bring it up. Not after that. A part of him suddenly hoped he would die in the assault so that his last moment of happiness would be with Cas. The real Cas. Unanalyzed, unspoiled, nothing but bliss memory. But just as Dean decided he wouldn’t say anything about Dick, Castiel brought it up instead.

“Dean…”

Dean didn’t know how it happened, but he realized in that moment that he had learned what Castiel was about to say just by the way he said his name.

“I’ll go with you.”

Dean stared at him. A flicker of fear lit inside him, slowly eroding his post-orgasm bliss. The words took a few moments to hit him. At least he replied, “No. No, you said you wanted to stay here. So stay.”

“Dean…”

“If things go sideways tomorrow, at least I’ll know you’re safe.”

Castiel considered this. “And if I go with you, maybe things won’t go sideways.”

Dean gave him a penetrating look. He knew Castiel was right. Hell, he’d been pushing Castiel to go with all day long. But now it made the fear in him swell. A new kind of fear that made him almost regret what he’d just done.

“Cas…”

“I was afraid of going with you, because I was afraid I’d fail again,” Castiel admitted, “I was afraid of getting you hurt. But my place is, and always been, by your side.”

Maybe it was because Castiel looked clearer than he had in years, but Dean didn’t contradict him. He didn’t want to. The words echoed in his head, making his heart swell. The fear hadn’t left him, but he kissed Castiel again and said, “Okay.”

Castiel gave him a small smile. There were so many things he wanted to say. So much time to make up for. But as Dean pulled him close, Castiel knew that somehow, everything would be okay.

After they both cleaned up, they got back into bed for a few hours of sleep. Neither of them dressed. Dean’s last thoughts as he drifted off were surprisingly free of fear and uncertainty, instead, a warm, relieving wash of joy. Whatever happened tomorrow, he and Castiel would face it side by side. And maybe, if they both survived, they could spend a lot more time together while awake.


End file.
